DEAD BAD a gripping crime mystery full of twists

by Helen H. Durrant

  “Tom reckons he’s not right in the head,” Ruth said. “That could be the case. Perhaps Norbury was promised something for taking the rap.”

  Ruth pointed at a paragraph on the sheet she was reading. “Have you seen this? It’s a transcript from one of the interviews. Norbury became upset at one point, and was given a break. On his return, it was noted that he had a bruise on his right cheek. When he was asked about it, he told Boyd that he’d stumbled and hit his head.”

  “What are you getting at?”

  “It might sound a bit far-fetched, Rocco, but do you think he was beaten? Forced to do as he was told?”

  “Beaten? That’s a big step. If he was, there would have been an outcry. He had his own solicitor, right?”

  Ruth sighed. “I suppose so. I’m grasping at straws again.”

  “We haven’t considered the gap yet. That’s important,” Rocco said. “Why hasn’t our mysterious killer struck again in all these years?”

  That had been puzzling Ruth too. “We could theorise on that one for weeks, but the alternatives are just as puzzling. If we accept that Norbury was guilty, then who was the current killing down to? How did the new killer know every single detail? We’ll go and have a word with Tom. When I met him off the train last night, he was knackered. Now that he knows what we’re working on and has had time to think, he may have recalled something we can use.”

  “Morning coffee at the doc’s then?” Rocco smiled.

  Ruth gave him a mock frown. “This is work, you know.”

  “What about Alice?”

  “We’ll leave her here,” she said. “Greco might want something.”

  “Speaking of which, has he said anything?” Rocco asked.

  “No, and I’m not asking. He isn’t the easiest man to talk to.”

  “Anyone wants us, we’re going back to the Hobfield,” Ruth said to Alice. “You can get me on my mobile.”

  Just as they were about to leave, Birch called out to her in the corridor.

  “I’ll see you at the car,” Ruth told Rocco.

  “Moortop Manse has been visited by the Ullapool police. The place is empty, abandoned is what they said. They will email a report through, but the house looked as if it’d been left in a hurry. Pots in the sink, lights left on, even a television left blaring away in the sitting room,” Birch said.

  “They got scared when Calladine escaped and scarpered. That’s the only explanation, ma’am.”

  “They will send in forensics next. I’ll keep you posted.”

  * * *

  They took Ruth’s car to Hopecross.

  “Had that chat with Jake yet?” Rocco asked.

  “No. By the time I’d got Tom to the doc’s it was too late. He’d gone to bed. Sulking, I reckon.”

  “And you? Made up your mind?”

  “I’m staying. Tom assures me he’ll be back. That’ll do for me.”

  They pulled into the drive of a huge stone house. “Wow,” said Rocco. “The old doc lives in some splendour, doesn’t he?”

  “Haven’t you been here before?”

  Rocco shook his head.

  “It’s a lovely property, with great views over the valley. It’s just a shame he lives here all on his own.”

  “Wonder if he wants a lodger?” Rocco mused.

  “Why? Are you looking for somewhere? I thought you were settled in that flat overlooking the canal.”

  “The flat is great,” Rocco said, “and the location’s perfect. It’s just too expensive. The rent is top whack, and there’s a service charge as well. If I had someone to share the expenses, it might be different. But as it is, I need a cheaper option.”

  “Think carefully before you give up your independence, Rocco.”

  The doc opened the door and smiled at them. “Come to check on our friend? I can report that he ate a hearty meal and had a good night’s sleep. I just wish I could get him off the damn computer.”

  “What’s he doing?” Ruth asked.

  “Researching that house he was taken to. Reckons he’s found it on the map. Come in.”

  “Moortop Manse,” Calladine said by way of a greeting. “Bloody place. Might look good but it’s nothing but a fancy prison.”

  He was studying Google Maps, looking at the road he’d driven down.

  Rocco peered over his shoulder. “It’s narrow with some sharp bends, and no lighting either. You were lucky to get back in one piece.”

  “You’re keeping my safe return quiet, aren’t you?”

  Rocco nodded. “What I don’t understand is why.”

  “Threats have been made against our families,” Ruth told him. “Harry in particular.”

  “Us four can know, but no one else,” Calladine said.

  “Alice isn’t daft. She’ll want to know why we’re holding back.”

  “Tell her that they got me once, and there’s no guaranteeing they won’t try again. Explain that things are happening in the background but my reappearance is not for discussion at the nick. I don’t want her telling Greco.”

  Ruth patted his back. “We haven’t told a soul.”

  Rocco was studying the map on the screen. “It’s in an isolated spot. If you hadn’t escaped, we’d never have found you. You were damn lucky.”

  “What? That they didn’t kill me?” Calladine gave a caustic laugh. “Well, I have no reason to think that they wouldn’t have.”

  “And you have no idea who they were, or who wanted you out of the way?” asked Rocco.

  Calladine shook his head. “There it is.” He pointed to a large house standing well back from the road. “There’s a track, but the map doesn’t follow it. The next thing is to find out who owns the damn place. I’ll get on with that later.”

  “Whoever they were, they’ve done a runner,” Ruth told him. “The Ullapool police raided but the place was empty.”

  Calladine swung the chair round. “They must be rattled.”

  “Have you spoken to Zoe?”

  “Yes. Her and Jo have taken an impromptu holiday. They won’t even tell me where they’ve gone. I’ve to text when everything is sorted and the danger has passed.”

  “Layla is worried too,” Ruth reminded him.

  “I’ll ring her later.”

  “We want to ask you about the George Norbury case,” Rocco said. “We have a copycat on our hands, but we’ve no idea where he got the details from.”

  “Ford, Jack Andrews, the pathologist or SOCO team at the time, or from me. Anyone of us could have said something. Talked about the case in the pub, to friends or family.”

  “You didn’t.” Ruth smiled.

  “No, I never do. Once a case is wrapped up and filed away, that’s it. Speaking of which, have you checked who’s had access to the case file? That could be your answer.”

  “It languished untouched in the archive until Alice took it out last week.” Ruth said. “Yesterday you hinted you had doubts about Norbury’s guilt. That could be our answer. It wasn’t Norbury at all but a different killer, someone who’s got a taste for it again.”

  “I have no proof of that, only my doubts from years ago. Look at the interviews, what Norbury said.” Calladine paused. “I know Angus Ford is now our chief super, but he did work the case. It wouldn’t do any harm to have a chat with him about it. He has no reason to refuse. I would also try a bit harder to find Boyd and Andrews. Both were local. Andrews came to us straight from university.”

  “Like Alice?” Ruth said.

  Calladine nodded. “But unlike Alice, his degree wasn’t in criminology as I recall.”

  “What did he major in?”

  He shrugged. “Can’t remember. It was a while ago.”

  The doc had disappeared to take a phone call. He returned, looking flustered. “I’ve been asked to go in. I’m still doing the locum thing. This time it’s Leesdon Infirmary. They’re chock-full. I’ll have to leave you folks to it.”

  Calladine looked at Ruth. “Have that conversation with Ford. I’ll find o
ut who owns Moortop Manse, and we’ll talk later.”

  Chapter 17

  “DCI Birch is looking for you,” Alice said when Ruth returned.

  “I’ll go and see what she wants. Did you get anything from Julian?”

  “The forensic artist is coming to see you later. He’s done a couple of sketches.”

  Ruth hurried along the corridor to Birch’s office. The DCI probably wanted an update on the case. The truth was, they didn’t have much. She’d have to be careful how she put it. Keep it upbeat. The alternative was having Long take charge.

  “DS Bayliss. Come in,” Birch said in her best official voice.

  After a quick glance at the man sitting with her, Ruth knew why Birch sounded so serious. She’d never met him in person, but Ruth had seen his photo. It was the new chief super, Angus Ford. Birch was all smiles. Not a good sign.

  “Given that DI Calladine is indisposed, I have been telling DCS Ford that it has fallen to you to organise the team. How are you doing?”

  “We are making progress, ma’am.”

  “Do you have the victim’s identity yet?”

  “I’m hopeful we’ll have it later today.” Not a yes, but not a straight no either. If the forensic artist failed to produce a likeness that someone recognised, they were scuppered.

  “This is Detective Chief Superintendent Ford. As you know, he now has responsibility for the Leesdon and Oldston stations.”

  The two exchanged nods. “Actually, sir, I was going to ask to speak to you about our current case.” Ruth saw Birch frown.

  “You think I can help?” He turned and looked straight at Ruth, seeming to notice her for the first time.

  Ruth felt nervous under his scrutiny. She had not been asked to sit down, and was standing awkwardly beside the desk.

  Ford was about Calladine’s age, but that was where the likeness ended. Ford was tall, thin and balding, with a florid face. His most striking feature was his long nose. He did not look a fit man. Stress was a killer in this job, and Ford appeared to have had his fair share. She guessed he was someone who lived on his nerves.

  “A number of years ago, sir, you worked on the George Norbury case.”

  His face turned a deeper red. “Yes, I did. Why do you ask?”

  “Your knowledge of that case may help us, sir.”

  “I doubt it. It was a long time ago and the perpetrator is locked up. You would do better to concentrate on your current case load. Looking back will get you nowhere.”

  But Ruth was not to be put off. “This time it might, sir. You see, the murder we are currently investigating has exactly the same MO as the Norbury killing. Hardly a coincidence.”

  Ford’s eyes narrowed and he pursed his lips. He evidently wasn’t happy at being asked the question.

  His tone was measured. “Of course I’ll help in any way I can. But you have to know that my input was minimal. What exactly are you suggesting?”

  “Just that it’s an odd coincidence, sir.”

  “Might I suggest that that is exactly what it is. What is on your mind, Sergeant? Do you think we put the wrong man away?”

  “I’m not suggesting anything, sir. The facts speak for themselves. Our current case is similar to that one in almost every detail. And that’s odd, given that the details of the Norbury case weren’t publicised.”

  “You did not work that case, Sergeant. If you had seen the evidence, listened to Norbury’s confession, you would have no doubts. DCI Boyd and the team listened to hours of gruesome details related by Norbury.” He shook his head. “The man is evil. Given that Calladine isn’t here, how did you find out about this similarity?”

  Ruth found his question odd. What did it matter? Ford was staring at her. He had large, piercing brown eyes. Why did she feel that she’d done wrong to discover the similarity? Then she remembered that if it hadn’t been for Alice poking around in the archive, they would never have become aware of the connection. As Ford had pointed out, Calladine was absent, and it was before Julian’s time. It had been Alice who had alerted them.

  “We have a new recruit in the team who’s very sharp,” Ruth said. “She’s been looking through a number of DI Calladine’s old cases. She was studying the George Norbury file when the body was discovered and spotted the similarities immediately.”

  “Rest assured, Sergeant, there was no mistake! Norbury was as guilty as sin. I know that better than anyone. I saw the evidence, read the man’s statements, and listened to him relate the sick details. After that, we did everyone a favour and put him away.”

  “Given the similarities, sir, I would be failing in my duty if I didn’t ask.”

  “Your tone suggests that you think we may have been wrong, Sergeant. You should think twice before you question the judgement of your superiors in cases you were not party to.” He paused, his breathing slightly laboured. “Norbury, or someone else connected to the case, has told someone. That’s your answer.”

  Calladine had said the same thing. “I was simply asking if you could suggest anything, sir. We are working flat out, against the clock. There is no guarantee that the killer won’t strike again.”

  “I can’t help. You are wasting your time with the Norbury angle. Look elsewhere. Do not waste valuable resources going over old ground.”

  He sounded calmer, but Ruth could see that Ford was struggling to regain his composure. His irritation at being questioned was evident on his face. Even his eyes were red. God knows what it must have been like to be part of his team. The man had a volatile temper. Was it just this particular case? Or did he react like this every time he was asked about an old one?

  “After the first few interviews, Norbury confessed in glorious technicolour to anyone who would listen. Alternatively, anyone connected with that case could have let details slip. Calladine himself, for example. What you have, Sergeant, is a copycat killing.” He sat back in his chair.

  Ruth didn’t dare contradict the man for fear of provoking him any further. But that wasn’t Calladine’s take on the case. He’d told her that Norbury did know things, but it was only after they’d found evidence at his home that he confessed.

  * * *

  So much for having a chat with the new boss. All Ruth had done was alienate him. He definitely wasn’t pleased at what she’d said. But Ruth couldn’t understand why. She put it down to ego. The man thought that because he was the boss, he always had to be right. She’d just wanted his help. She hadn’t been criticising him, but that was how he’d seen it.

  Ruth was still shaken when she got back to the incident room. Ford had a bad temper and was no doubt a bully too. They’d get no help from him, that was for sure.

  “Michael!” The forensic artist had arrived and was chatting to Rocco. His friendly smile cheered her up immediately.

  “What did Birch want? On our backs, is she?” asked Rocco.

  “She had the new super with her. Tom was right, he’s a bad-tempered old bugger. I spoke to him about the case, but he was no help at all. In fact, he took the fact that I’d asked him about it as a personal attack.”

  “The boss doesn’t like him much either,” Rocco said.

  “That’s not the point though, is it? He led the investigation. He should offer us his support, not take offence!”

  Michael held out a sheaf of papers. “I’ve done one or two sketches. Difficult because of the mouth, but they might help.”

  Ruth looked at them carefully. “Rocco, have you seen these?”

  “No, I was waiting for you.”

  “This one, who does it remind you of? I’d go as far as to say we’ve seen her very recently. Or someone who looks very like her.”

  Rocco took it from her. “That girl, the edgy one in Heron House! The one who didn’t want to talk. That sketch is the spit of her.”

  “That has to be more than coincidence. We’ll get back there, show her this and see if she feels more like talking to us now,” Ruth said.

  * * *

  “You should tell
the boss about Ford’s reluctance to help,” Rocco suggested as they drove.

  “I don’t understand the man,” she said. “Calladine did express his doubts about Norbury’s guilt. I wonder if he voiced them to Ford? That could be why they don’t get on.”

  They pulled up in front of Heron House. “We’re in luck. She’s over there, see?” Rocco pointed at a young woman with a pushchair.

  Ruth got out of the car. “Come on. Let’s see if we can get the truth out of her this time.”

  “Ingrid Plesec!” she called. “We’d like a word.”

  “I’ve already told you. I don’t know anything.” The girl gripped the pushchair handles so tight that her knuckles were pale.

  “You don’t know what we want yet.” Ruth took one of the sketches from her bag. “Do you know this woman?”

  The girl was shaking. She glanced at the image and immediately turned her eyes away. She shook her head.

  “I think you do know her. Look again.” Ruth pushed the page in front of her. “You are very alike. In fact, with a little tweak here and there, this could be you.”

  The young woman burst into tears. “She’s my sister.”

  “Do you know where she is?” Ruth asked.

  “No. I haven’t seen her in weeks. She’s in trouble, isn’t she? I knew Ingrid would drag me into something sooner or later.”

  The young woman was really upset. They should be sitting down somewhere. “Is there anywhere we can talk?” Ruth asked.

  “Tell me now. Here.” The girl pulled herself up to her full height.

  “You said Ingrid?” Ruth said, puzzled. “I thought that was your name. Would you like to explain?”

  “Ingrid disappeared. Ran away, I think. We’d had an argument about her behaviour, particularly the way she treated Lara.”

  “Was it a bad one? Did you come to blows?”

  She shook her head. “No, nothing like that.”

  “So why didn’t you tell us she was missing?” Ruth asked.

  “We lived together but everything we have is in Ingrid’s name. The flat, the bank account, all the state benefits for Lara.” She smiled down at the sleeping child in the pushchair.

  Ruth knew at once what she’d done. “So, Ingrid goes missing and you take her identity?”